


Maybe He Could Fix It

by Takada_Saiko



Series: Howard Stark collection [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Howard trying to do better, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, fic prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/pseuds/Takada_Saiko
Summary: (Loose interpretation of a) Fic Prompt: Coming HomeFifteen--year-old Tony lets a party get a little too out of hand and is rushed to a Boston hospital. Howard, in New York on SHIELD business, is the closest family member to him.
Relationships: Howard Stark & Tony Stark
Series: Howard Stark collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587466
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Maybe He Could Fix It

He was in New York when the call came through, startling him awake in the middle of the night. He’d landed that evening and had gone straight to one of his homes in order to try to get a few hours peace before the SHIELD operation being run out of their New York bunker the next morning commenced. They needed him there to guide the agents on the ground through how to use a sensitive piece of equipment that he’d designed specifically for this op. Their window for deployment was narrow, but the one that would allow him to train the agents on how to use the tech even smaller. Peggy had been adamant on making sure that he was there on time and that there were no delays. If he wasn’t there, the mission failed, and if they failed lives would be lost.

Even so, Howard had roused Jarvis immediately after he’d ended the call with Maria and they had hopped a flight. Amazing how quickly things could move when money wasn’t an object. Airports opened, jets were fueled, and an entire wing at a Boston hospital was closed off to keep reporters from running away with what they were sure to think was front page news.

But to the inventor walking through the empty hallways, it was a waking nightmare.

He’d been on the phone with the hospital for all the details, but nothing could fully prepare him for the sight of his only child lying still and quiet and so very small against the white sheets of the hospital bed. Machines whirled and beeped, pushing medication, fluids, and reading vitals. He was stable, the doctor assured him, though if his friend hadn’t called 9-1-1 when he did, things could have gotten a lot worse. A fifteen-year-old shouldn’t be drinking, much less in that quantity. They’d had to flush his system and he’d be asleep for a while longer, but Howard was welcome to sit with him.

Panic was the only way to describe the flood of emotion that washed over him, but Jarvis was already halfway out the door with the Rhodes boy by then, giving him a few private moments with his son. Rhodes shot him a look of pure judgment as he passed, as if he somehow thought that Tony’s bender was Howard’s fault.

_But wasn’t it?_

Howard hated that small voice that pulled on him. Hated it even more when it was right. He’d done everything he knew how to do to protect his boy. Education, resources, doors opened wide that he’d had to kick down on his own at that age. For every way his own father had shut him down as a child, Howard had tried to support Tony. They lived in a dangerous world. His time with the SSR and SHIELD had taught him that. So when his son had been born he’d thrown himself even deeper into the covert organization that he’d helped to found to work in the shadow so that the next generation- so that his own kid - could have a chance at the light.

But there he was. The best efforts meant nothing if Tony took Howard’s worst traits and ran with them. They meant nothing if Howard’s worst traits got him killed.

A mustache that had turned white somewhere along the way twitched as the lips below it angled down and Howard inched forward. He didn’t have to worry about waking the teen up, but he moved like he did. Slow and absolutely quiet until he eased himself down into the chair that James Rhodes has pulled up to the side of the bed. It squeaked, but Tony didn’t stir, and after a long moment Howard drew in an unsteady breath. “Scared your mother to death,” he whispered, even the hushed words feeling too loud. He winced and shifted, the chair giving another painful creak beneath him. They really needed to take care of that. Better yet. Throw the whole thing out. Not only was it too loud it was stiff and uncomfortable too.

Howard’s runaway thought process slammed to a stop. Was he really hyper focusing on a hospital chair right then? Yes. Yes he was.

“And your mother’s better at this,” he confessed very softly. “She knows how to…. I don’t know what. She knows what needs to be said and she says it. Shows it too. I’ve never been good with honesty.” He reached forward on impulse, taking Tony’s limp hand before his brain had a chance to talk him out of it. He shut his eyes and forced the words out, feeling them claw at the backside of every wall he’d carefully constructed in the last sixty-eight years. “I never wanted this, but I don’t know how to fix it. I can fix just about anything but this and it’s the one thing….”

Thin fingers tightened in his grasp and Howard’s eyes popped open to find a pair so like his own staring back at him. Younger and very, very bleary, but open. “Dad?”

And just like that, the panic returned. He started to pull his hand away and put their customary distance between them, but Tony’s weak and scratchy voice stopped him.

“What’dya doing here?”

The older Stark stopped, fingers still touching Tony’s and he swallowed hard. “They still call your parents when you get carted off by an ambulance.”

Tony blinked at him, his expression confused and his eyelids heavy. “Huh?”

He wasn’t going to remember a word of this, Howard realized. He steeled himself slowly, working the corner of his lips into something that he hoped resemembed a smile, and tightened his hand around the teen’s again. “Nothing. Get some sleep.”

That’s all that was needed for those dark eyes to slip closed again and for Tony to relax against the pillows. His father didn’t dare move as he tightened his grip just a little more. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he whispered, the words more than he’d ever dared let slip before. Maybe that meant that when Tony came home, he could do better. Maybe he could still find a way to fix this.


End file.
